


Lost and Found

by Pyreite



Series: To Fall and Rise [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Absence, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Children, Dragons, Dreams, Dreamsharing, F/M, Fade Spirits, Future Fic, Grief, Healing, Implied Sexual Content, In the Fade, Injury, Mabari, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Returning Home, Reunions, Sadness, The Fade, Timeskip, Twins, farmer - Freeform, instincts, spells, timejump, unions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26510671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyreite/pseuds/Pyreite
Summary: Ellana returns to Fereldan after a thousand year absence.  Many things have changed, though some things have stayed the same.[Continuation of the To Fall and Rise series, takes place 1000 years after the ending ofThe Vagrant]She hadn’t set foot in this part of the world in a thousand years. It was strange to return and not recognise a single landmark. The valley that’d once been her sanctuary outside New Elvhenan wasn’t as she remembered it to be. Where her hut had stood on the edge of the forest, there was a village filled with houses. The surrounding woodland had been cleared, the underbrush turned into arable land.There were farms, gardens and orchards.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Mythal/Solas
Series: To Fall and Rise [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/321056
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> Edited. Final version.

She hadn’t set foot in this part of the world in a thousand years. It was strange to return and not recognise a single landmark. The valley that’d once been her sanctuary outside New Arlathan wasn’t as she remembered it to be. Where her hut had stood on the edge of the forest, there was a village filled with houses. The surrounding woodland had been cleared, the underbrush turned into arable land.

There were farms, gardens and orchards.

A casual pass over a fenced pasture sent a flock of sheep running for the hills. A herd of cattle followed their mad flight, lowing in fright. A mabari barked at her from below, alarming the folk ploughing a field. The horse went one way, the plough another. Ellana circled when she heard screaming.

A flare of her nostrils and she smelt blood on the air.

She turned in an arc, spiralling downward with the grace of a falcon on-wing. She saw the farmhands scatter beneath her shadow, though the dog remained. It barked when she flapped her wings, sending a shower of dust in all directions. It was a loyal beast, more terrified of its owner dying than of the dragon coming into land. She shifted shape the moment her claws touched the ground, confusing the poor thing.

It whined when what was a dragon became an elf.

Membranous wings turned silver-grey, followed by a long serpentine body. A thick tail that dragged in the dirt turned hazy. Tree trunk-like legs with huge clawed hands dissipated like smoke. A muscular neck and its giant horned head were shed like leaves. A woman emerged, garbed in leather, gilded steel, and black feathers.

Large goat-like horns curled up and over the crown of her head.

“Easy, my lad”, she called, offering a gauntleted five-fingered hand to the dog. “I didn’t mean to cause your master trouble. Will you let me tend him? That plough has cut a nasty gash in his leg. He’ll not live long if the bleeding isn’t staunched”.

She heard the injured man groan, a steady red trickle staining the earth beneath him.

The dog sniffed at her fingers still uncertain. It gazed back at its master, lying supine in the sun. The leg of his trousers muddied and mangled. The thigh beneath a tattered mess of broken bone and torn flesh.

“He’ll die if we do nothing. I can help him if you’ll let me”.

The dog gave her a last lingering look, before it turned away. She smiled when it returned to the fallen ploughman. It sat on its haunches next to him, giving her an expectant look. The decision was made. She bowed her head in acknowledgement, then made her way over in short sweeping strides.

She came to the wounded man’s side, looking down into his pained face. He was ruddy-skinned, blue-eyed, and red-haired. An attractive combination, though she had little time to admire him. He was bloody, bedraggled, and in agony. She pressed a gauntleted finger to his mouth when he pursed his lips. A shake of her head silenced him.

“Save your strength”, she told him. “This will hurt”.

She dug the claws of her left-hand into his torn thigh. His scream frightened the birds from the trees in a flurry of black wings. He thrashed beneath the gauntleted hand pressing down on his chest. He beat at her forearm and shoulder, fingers slipping on her gilded pauldrons. He collapsed, losing consciousness when the plough was yanked free.

“Ir abelas”, she murmured when his eyes rolled back into his head. “It was the only way. I couldn’t heal you while it was embedded in your leg. Forgive me. Your injury is my fault”.

The dog whined, scenting blood when she cast the wet plough into the dirt. It fell with a dull thunk, shedding a cascade of crimson droplets. She smiled at the ploughman’s loyal companion, glad that he had such a dutiful friend. The dog was tense, the length of its body coiled like a spring. She didn’t doubt it would bite her if she didn’t keep her promise.

“I will tend him now, though I’d appreciate it if you kept his folk from lynching me”.

She nodded to the crowd forming on the edge of the field. Some carried pitchforks, others axes, and several had arrows nocked to the bowstring. Most were men, though there were women too. She even saw a young boy armed with a scythe. It would be a bloodbath, though she had no desire to kill them.

She would respond with force if necessary.

The dog turned its tawny head towards the crowd. It barked once, twice, and leapt to its paws. It barrelled across the churned earth, heading straight for the mob. It took charge, barking like a mad thing. All attention was drawn to it, the crowd backing up when the dog advanced with its teeth bared.

“Mabari still understand the common-tongue”, she mused while tending the ploughman’s leg.

Jagged points of broken bone poked through his lacerated flesh. He’d never walk again if she didn’t act fast. It was fortunate for him that she had experience aplenty in using healing spells. A thousand years abroad had done wonders for her confidence. Control came easier now than it had in the first decade of her ascension into the elven pantheon.

She didn’t need words nowadays. Focus was enough, though intent still mattered. She laid the bloody palm of her left-hand across the wound. Careful not to let her talons catch on the ragged edges. Magic pooled there like water, washing through and over the injured ploughman.

Light spilled into the field, blinding those gathered. The crowd cowered, many a face turning away. The dog barked, frantic when something launched itself into the sky. A sudden downward draught of air blasted the ploughman’s folk. Some stumbled whilst others lost their footing, tumbling into the dirt.

The dog ran back to his master, barking when he roused.

“Fen'Harel’s teeth”, he croaked. “She sliced me open, healed me, and then flew away”.

He was gobsmacked till the dog flopped into his lap. He yelped when pain shot up his once torn leg. He shoved the beast away when it tried to lick his face. The dog returned, poking its wet snout into his cheek and chin. He yelled when it nosed the ragged leg of his trousers too.

“Stop poking it! Might be healed, but it’s still sore!”

The ploughman slapped a calloused hand to his head when that wind returned. It ruffled his hair, sending a shiver of foreboding down his spine. He looked into the sky, noticing the serpent circling overhead. It was large, long, and silver. A gigantic snake with the wings of a bat.

“I’m fine!” he yelled. “Go on with you! I’ll keep the Wolf-Lord occupied when he comes down here! Ma serannas! He’ll be right confused that you’ve returned after all this time!”

He laughed, giving her an eager wave when she flapped her wings. One stroke, two, and she was sailing over the farm. She disappeared into the distance, sunlight flashing off her scales. He exhaled a slow breath, awed by the sight of a real High Dragon. He didn’t have long to contemplate his luck when his frantic folk descended on him.

The dog came too.

* * *

Four days later, the dragon returned. The ploughman, now on crutches met her on the porch of his home. His wife and children were still in bed, fast asleep despite the early hour. So was most of the village, except for the animals. A cockerel crowed, but not one of his folk roused themselves to start the day’s work.

The dragoness had used a little magical interference.

“A sleeping spell”, said the ploughman when she appeared in a haze of smoke. “Clever. I wondered if you’d cause another stir”. He stuck his leg out, the hem of his trousers rolled up over his knee. The skin beneath was pink and flushed though the jagged line of his scar was fading.

She smiled when she saw what was left of his injury. “It healed well”.

“Thanks to you. I would've been crippled for life if you hadn’t helped me”.

The mabari ever faithful trotted out to meet her. She offered her scaled left-hand, clawed fingers bare. He sniffed then licked her wrist. His acceptance made her laugh. She petted him with that same hand, careful not to let her claws catch in his fur.

“He likes you”.

“Most dogs don’t”, she replied. “Cats too. There’s too much dragon in me”.

“So I’ve seen”. The ploughman didn’t give her his name, though he made a statement. “Those horns on your head go with your eyes. I’d think you were Qunari if I didn’t know better. Most of our folk have forgotten you exist”.

She inclined her horned head, her golden eyes glinting. “That’s understandable. I’ve not been in this part of Thedas for a thousand years. Those that knew me before I became what I am now are long dead. Many of the elves of today were born in the centuries after the tearing of the Veil”.

“I wasn’t”.

“You’re a rare exception”.

The ploughman studied her for several long moments. She was tall, slender as a reed, and pretty as a flower. Thick wavy hair cascaded over and down her armoured shoulders. She wore a mantle of black feathers over gilded pauldrons. Her cuirass was more akin to a corset.

Tight, formfitting, and fashioned from studded leather. It covered her from clavicle to hip, before disappearing into the folds of a matching skirt. The tails of which whispered when she walked. He swallowed, self-conscious when she caught him staring. She arched an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curving upward.

“See something you like?”

He shook his head, not daring to admit that he’d glimpsed a flash of bare skin. The sides of her breeches were split, a leather lattice holding the two halves together. Her legs from toe to thigh were covered in gilded plate. Her arms were too, though her left-hand was bare to the elbow. He doubted she needed a gauntlet when her skin was covered in silver scales.

“Pity”, she teased. “It’s been centuries since I’ve talked to someone outside my own people”.

The ploughman stared. “Your people?” He flinched when she grinned at him with a flash of white fangs. Her ears might've been pointed, she even looked elven. But there was something about her that was strange and unsettling.

Something that made the hairs rise on the nape of his neck.

“Mine. Yes”, she affirmed. “Or did you think that I had something in common with your Wolf-Lord?”

He frowned. “Don’t you? I feel funny on the inside around you like I do around him. It’s a kind of wrongness that leaves my guts churning. You look like an elf, but you’re not like us at all”.

“I was once”.

“You changed”.

“Obviously”.

The ploughman opened his mouth to ask a question. He paused, frowning when she clucked her tongue in disappointment. A shake of her head made him nervous. He glanced at the corner of his house, sweating when a shadow crept around the porch. He bit his lip in chagrin when she caught him out.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you had company?”

The ploughman shrugged. “I’m a farmer, my lady. I sow the fields and reap the grain. I know my place. It’s not for me to meddle in the affairs of the gods”.

His answer irked her. “Gods”, she repeated. “What nonsense”.

A snap of her clawed fingers and he slumped, weariness overcoming him. He snored into his chest, his eyes closed once her sleeping spell took hold. The dog whined, curling up at his feet. It watched her with a pair of dark brown eyes. She turned then to address the figure that’d spied on them.

“So it was you that sent the raven”, she declared. “I thought the farmer’s writing looked a little too familiar. It’s been a thousand years and you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still organising clandestine meetings in strange places. Although a farmhouse is a first even for you”.

She was pleased when she heard a ragged gasp. The sharp sucking inhale of shock a pleasure after so long apart. It gave her a sense of visceral satisfaction when he pulled the cowl from his head. Cloaked in black he contrasted with the farmhouse’s whitewashed walls. She took a step backward, smirking when he cursed.

“Fenedhis!”

She took another step, waggling her brows. “Is that all you have to say to me?” She laughed when he barked a command. The word was elvish, old and reminiscent of another man that’d once shared her bed. He’d often tried to tell her what to do too.

It’d never worked.

“Arrogant as ever. No”, she challenged. “I don’t think I will”.

She winked at him as she turned away. She took one step, then two, and almost managed a third until his arms locked around her waist. She felt the prickle of an icespell as he pressed himself tight into the curve of her back. The fade-step had carried him to her side in the blink of an eye. The dusting of frost on her skin, scales, and armour a frigid reminder that he was a formidable opponent.

“Someone has missed me”.

She didn’t pull away when he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Black hair spilled over her shoulder, long and intricately braided. She fingered a plait, her nose wrinkling when she smelt the salt of his tears. A shudder rolled through him, then another as he sobbed like a child. She endured the grasping of his hands, the plaintive whine when he refused to let her go.

“Solas”, she coaxed. “You need to let me breathe”.


	2. To Seek is to Find

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited. Updated dialogue, trimmed detail. Final version.

It took hours to calm him. It was midday when he was finally capable of speech. It was another hour before he could form coherent sentences that didn't end with him sobbing. His eyes were red-rimmed from weeping, the whites bloodshot. Solas reeked of salt, sadness, and regret.

“Come with me”, he begged. “You need a place to rest. I can provide a roof and a bed. I know things between us were tense when you left. I acted rashly, but all I wanted was to keep you safe”.

“I assumed as much”, stated Ellana.

He was hopeful. “Then something has changed. Or you would not be here”.

“Everything has changed. My perspective most of all”.

“Will you stay?” he asked with trepidation. “You are welcome in New Arlathan”.

Ellana considered his offer. It was more than she’d expected. Thedas was still vast and unexplored. Not every corner of the map had been discovered. There were shadows aplenty to hide in if one knew where to look.

“That’s generous of you. What makes you think I’d accept? I didn’t want to see your city the first time you asked me to visit. Are you hoping that I’ve changed my mind? You’re more persistent than I’d expected”.

The bluntness of her reply stung.

“Your hut is gone”, said Solas. “Where would you go?”

She could go anywhere she wanted to with wings of her own. He knew that and feared she’d take flight again. The first time she’d learned to fly. He’d not seen her for decades, the second time she’d disappeared without a trace. It was a miracle that she’d thought to pass through the Frostback mountains at all.

Her response left him ill at ease.

“I’d travel further north to Seheron, perhaps even west to Antiva. I hear Rialto Bay is beautiful come spring. Josephine would gush about the boats in the harbour. Do you remember?”

“Yes”, he declared with a heavy heart, recalling happier days in the Inquisition. “I do”.

Moments passed in an awkward silence. Ellana saw the worry etched into the lines of his face. There were bags under his eyes, the skin sallow. He hadn’t slept well in years, the insomnia a constant companion. There were wrinkles between his brows, on his cheeks, and at the corners of his mouth.

He’d aged in the last thousand years, growing more haggard with each century. Silver hairs peaked across his temples amidst the black in flickers of white. He had that eternal elven youth, though decades of lost sleep had carved away a chunk of his health. He looked old and worn out. It was plain to Ellana that he felt the lingering ache of every year that he’d lived.

“You look terrible”, she told him with that the tactlessness of a Dalish peasant. “I’ve seen mabari with less grey around their muzzles. You were hale if bedridden when I left you dozing in the tent outside my hut. Cole stayed to take care of you. What happened?”

Solas was offended by her phrasing. The casualness of her question filling him with fury. “You left and did not return! You promised that you would come back to me in fourteen days! Fourteen not three hundred and sixty-five thousand! What did you expect would happen?”

His outburst didn’t have the desired effect. Ellana was neither upset nor apologetic. She regarded him with an infuriating calmness reminiscent of Flemeth. She blinked, unfazed by his show of temper. Her answer was succinct.

“I’d hoped you’d get on with your life, instead of wasting it looking for me”.

Solas’ lips peeled back from his teeth. He glowered at her, a thousand years of frustration bubbling over. “How can you be so callous? I have spent centuries fearing that Elgar’nan haunted your steps like a shadow! Relentless in his pursuit!”

Ellana arched an eyebrow. She regarded him with disdain, lifting her nose in the air. She hated it when he got defensive. It was an irritating facet of his personality. Behind that shrewd intelligence was a fretful self-centred prig with an ego to match.

“I never asked you to do that. I was quite capable of looking after myself. I had Abelas, the sentinel elves. What ever made you think that I needed your protection?”

“Mythal and I were allies for millennia!”

“She died, Solas. I wasn’t eager to have history repeat”.

He sucked in an angry breath. “She was betrayed by the Evanuris! Murdered!”

“Now she lives again through me”, concluded Ellana. “I know it’s difficult for you to accept, but I had to leave you. We both did. You tried to hold onto us with a possessiveness that was suffocating. I was grieving and I needed the time and distance from you to rediscover who I was”.

“I loved you! I needed you!”

“You loved the thought of me. Of us. You needed Mythal. That’s why you kept Morrigan inside a box for five hundred years. That Mythal and I are now one in the same doesn’t mean either of us have forgiven you”.

Solas’ breath hitched. He was close to tears again. It was agonising to hear the truth. She spoke with the voice of the woman he adored, but the wisdom behind it belonged to Mythal. The weightiness of that realisation hit him hard.

“Then why did you return?”

She deflected his question with one of her own. “How long has it been since you’ve left your city?”

“Why?”

“How long?”

Solas didn’t like the way she poked and prodded him. “A decade, perhaps two”.

“Are you sure it isn’t closer to centuries?”

He went quiet, refusing to confirm her accusation.

Ellana pitied him. She knew that what she’d said was true. In a thousand years he hadn’t left the sanctuary of New Arlathan. He hadn’t bothered to look beyond the boundaries of the city he’d built on the Amaranthine coast. How much of Thedas had he ignored in his determination to find her?

Above ground or below, she doubted he’d known about what’d happened in Kal Sharok. Or further north in the ruins of Weisshaupt. The Sixth Blight had all but wiped out the Order of the Grey Wardens. It was a miracle the last of their forces had overcome Razikale before the end. The search for Lusacan had come at great cost too.

Ellana made a statement. “You haven’t left New Arlathan in a thousand years”.

Solas’ reply was bitter. “I was searching for you!”

“I didn’t want to be found. I was a rogue and a huntress before I became Mythal. The shadows have always been a comfort to me. I know how to hide. Your search was for naught”.

He was infuriated by her admission. “You hid yourself from me?”

“Yes”.

“How could you? That was unfair!”

“Life isn’t fair. I know that best of all”.

She studied him for several moments, sensing the depth of his ire. He shifted from foot to foot, a habit when he was angry. The fingers of his hands were next. The occasional twitch of his thumbs a telling sign. He was restraining himself from shouting at her.

“If it’s any consolation”, said Ellana. “I have ceased to be angry with you about the tearing of the Veil. It was a miscalculation on my part to believe that I could’ve changed your mind”.

Solas had regained enough of his composure to respond. “I was determined to save my people”.

“At the expense of my own. I know. I lived through it”.

His lip curled with indignation. “How many times must I apologise?”

“Don’t. It’s water under the bridge. Neither of us can change the past. I have mourned my dead. I can’t help the living if I dwelt on _what was_ instead of _what can be_ ”.

That surprised him. “Am I forgiven?”

“No. I have an excellent memory”, stated Ellana without conceit. “Let’s say that being stuck with Flemeth for a millennia improved my opinion of you. She’s quite persuasive, although Morrigan thinks she’s a nag. I’d tend to agree if I didn’t like her so much”.

“Is that why you returned to Fereldan?”

It was a loaded question. Ellana almost refused to answer. Solas had an expression of such hopefulness upon his face that for a single terrible moment. She wanted to break his heart, to dash his world to pieces. It was cruel and petty, yet well deserved for what he’d put her through.

She considered lying, yet Mythal’s presence was a calming influence.

“I came back for you. I thought it was time that I’d fulfilled my promise. As you’ve said. I’d pledged to return to you in fourteen days. I’m sorry to say that I’ve overstepped that mark by quite a bit”.

“That is a gross underestimation”, complained Solas. “But I am glad that you are here now”.

She felt small, even vulnerable in that moment. His declaration scorching her to the bone. “Truly?” she asked in a small voice. “I’d apologise for my absence, but that’d be insincere. The truth is. I needed every one of those years to come to terms with what’d happened to me”.

He was quick to catch her meaning. “Because of the bargain you made with Flemeth”.

“Yes. It hasn’t been easy, but here I am at last. Can you forgive my tardiness?”

Solas couldn’t believe his luck. The unlikeliest of circumstances had been handed to him on a silver platter. Although he was unsure of Ellana’s sincerity. He trusted Mythal. If his beloved had returned to him than it was by Mythal’s design.

“I will”, said Solas, offering to meet her halfway. “If you return with me to New Arlathan. To the house I built for us. Even if you want nothing more from me. I would have you stay there in recompense for making me wait a thousand years to see you again”.

He was astounded when Ellana agreed. “I suppose that’s fair”.

“You will come with me?”

“This time. Yes. I will. Show me what you’ve built”.

He stared when she turned towards the sun. She regarded the clouds with a sense of delight. The smile on her face beatific. He’d never seen her so happy. It was strange, even terrifying to think that she was back in his life again.

He wondered how long she’d stay.

“Solas”.

“Yes?” he called, roused out of his melancholy.

“Why are you still standing there? We should be leaving. Oh. I’d forgotten that you can’t fly. That complicates matters”.

He rolled his eyes. “Your Eluvian still stands to the north. The farmers use it to go back and forth to the capital”.

“To trade no doubt”, assumed Ellana. “It’d save hiking a million miles to the Amaranthine coast with grain, goods and livestock”.

“The farmers have families in the city”.

“But you don’t?”

The question caught him off-guard. “No. I have never married”. Her next statement shocked him.

“A pity. You’d make a good husband”.

Ellana got to her feet. She’d spent hours sitting beside the slumbering ploughman on a bench outside his front door. For a simple farmer, he snored like a druffalo. She grimaced when the blood flowed back into her knees. She teetered at first, her footing unsteady until a hand gripped her shoulder.

“Ma serannas”.

She responded in kind slinging an arm around Solas’ waist. He tensed like a coiled spring. Ellana felt the muscles along his spine ripple beneath his clothes. He’d kept himself trim during her long absence. She splayed her clawed fingers across his hip, kneading the taut tendons there.

She stilled when he caught her wrist. His blunt nails slid across the slick surface of her scales. The left-hand she’d lost to the Anchor had been returned courtesy of Mythal. It was strange to feel the strength in his fingers, to hear the panting rasp of his breath. She’d never before noticed the way he smelled.

Like sandalwood with a hint of parchment, smoke, and ink.

But there was something else too. A peculiarity that’d set the ploughman’s teeth on edge. It was familiar somehow, like recognising a long lost friend. What the slumbering farmer had found perturbing was a comfort to Ellana. She invited herself inside Solas’ personal space, stepping into the lean lines of his body.

She took shelter there, turning her face into the curve of his neck.

She embraced him, uncaring that he was stiff as a plank of wood. She nuzzled into his clavicle, taking a deep breath. The tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Mythal wasn’t the only one that’d missed him. She stood there enjoying the feel and scent of him – the raw solidity that made him Solas.

“Ellana”.

She roused at the call of her name, glad that he remembered who’d she’d once been. It was impossible for her to distinguish between herself and Mythal. They were one in a the same now, yet in the earliest years of their merging. The duality of their nature had been a bewildering mess. Her own bitterness, rage, and grief had been echoed, recognised, and reflected by Mythal.

Through it all one constant had remained. An unshakeable trust in Solas, the man she’d spent her life hating. Yet in time the bitterness had eased, the rage cooled, and the sorrow had been overcome. She wasn’t furious with him, but interested with a morbid sense of entitlement.

“What are you doing?” asked Solas with apprehension.

“I’m hugging you. You’re making it awkward”.

“It is awkward. You hate me”.

She could feel the tension in his body. He was uncomfortable with her forwardness. He’d expected a knife in the back, not an armful of an amorous shapeshifter. She resisted the urge to sink her fangs into his shoulder. He smelt delectable enough to eat.

“I hated you”, she corrected. “Past tense”.

“That is too lenient”.

“Why?”

“You have every right to despise me”, insisted Solas. “What I did to you was inexcusable”.

“That was then and this is now. I have made my peace with the past. So must you”.

He was alarmed when she asked him an inappropriate question.

“You smell really good. Can I bite you?”

“What? No! Ellana! Be serious!”

“I am being serious. You smell delightful. Good enough to chew on in fact”.

Solas recoiled when a warm wet tongue lapped at his throat. He jerked backward, trying to shove her away. Ellana held fast with a determination that sent them toppling to the ground. He landed hard on the farmer’s hardwood porch. He wheezed, cushioning Ellana’s fall as his legs tangled with hers.

She took advantage of his distraction.

Solas was caught in a compromising position. She sat astride him as if he were a horse. The gilded poleyns across her kneecaps digging into his hips. Her arse in his lap, the length of her calves against his thighs. Her hands gauntleted and scaled were braced on the floorboards on either side of his head.

He was astonished by the way she gazed at him.

Her golden eyes were wild and scorching. There was a heat in them that seemed as misplaced as it was misdirected. She was panting too. Her bosom heaving inside her studded cuirass. Her lips were peeled back from her teeth. Her face a rictus of pain.

“Ellana”.

“Don’t say my name like that! You’re making it worse!”

“What?” called Solas in concern. “I do not understand! Are you ill?”

“No! Yes! Why did it have to be you? Damn it! I’m too close to my blasted cycle!”

“What cycle?”

Ellana was reluctant to tell him. Her own folk considered it a sign of good fortune. The celebrations they held in her honour were often boisterous affairs. Children aplenty were born in the months afterwards. Each one considered a blessing to be conceived during the Fireheart Festival.

She would’ve kept her tongue behind her teeth if Solas hadn’t looked so terrified.

“It’s Mythal”, she growled, trying to maintain a coherent thread of thought. “The part of her, of us that’s a High Dragon. In the wild they rise once every century to mate and clutch. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does I can’t think straight. I should have noticed the signs when I turned south instead of north-west”.

“Signs?” reiterated Solas with a sense of wonder. He’d never heard of this occurring with Mythal. “What do you mean?”

“To mate!” she cried. “Balls! Must I have it written on my forehead? It’s draconic instinct! I can’t ignore the part of my nature that’s set in stone!”

Solas was astounded. “Is that why you came looking for me?”

“I’m here aren’t I?” she snarled, irked by his ignorance. “I told you! I can’t think when I’m running hot enough to burn through my breeches! I’m usually back home far enough within my own territory to find Revas! But he’s half a world away and you were closest!”

He felt a twinge of jealousy. He had an idea of whom she’d meant. A tall silver-haired sentinel with eyes like amber. A man that’d shared her bed for three centuries before she’d merged with Mythal. That their relationship had continued surprised and upset him.

“So Abelas has changed his name. Is he your husband?”

“That is a matter of contention”.

“Why?”

Ellana rolled her eyes. “Solas”, she grumbled. “If it isn’t obvious. I’d rather be doing something other than talking”. She rolled her hips, grinding downwards hard enough to make him gasp. “What’s it going to be?”

“I do not understand”.

She glared at him. “You can’t be that dense. I’m sitting in your lap. How much more obvious could I be?”

“This is awfully sudden”.

“Fenedhis!” she cursed. “I don’t have time for you to get comfortable! Choose, Solas! Or I’ll root around inside the walls of your city until I find a suitable mate! If not you than it’ll have to be one of your people!”

He couldn’t believe her audacity. “You cannot invite yourself into someone else’s bed! They could have a spouse! Children! You would destroy their family!”

“Then it’ll have to be you!”

Her presumption offended him. “You cannot invite yourself into my chambers! We have not seen each other in a thousand years! You are being overbold!”

“Why not?” she challenged. “You offered me sanctuary. A roof and a bed. If that includes you bare-arse naked in the sheets than I accept”.

“That is not what I meant!”

“Are you rejecting me?”

Lifting a hand from the ground, she stroked his cheek with scaled knuckles. She paused when he trembled at her touch then averted his eyes. “I understand”, she told him, realising her error. “I will have to find someone more willing. If that fails then I will leave Fereldan and find Revas”.

Ellana relaxed her knees, lifting her calves from his thighs.

“My heat will pass in a month or so. If one of your folk is tied up for a few weeks. You’ll know why. I’ll endeavour to make sure they’re unwed. I didn’t come here to ruin families, but to build them”.

She braced herself against the ground, shifting her weight onto her knees. She pushed upward, intent on rolling off him. She didn’t get far when his fingers sank into the gaps of her breeches. The leather lattice binding the halves of black leather were an inadequate barrier. Her fangs clenched the instant Solas kneaded her bare skin.

“If we are to be joined in body, it will be for always”, he warned, voice rough. “Do you understand? We will be wed, Ellana. Without a ring, a promise, or a ceremony. I will consider this union a permanent bonding”.

She whined, biting her lip. “What makes you think that I haven’t wanted this for centuries?”

Solas looked into her eyes, finding himself reflected there. “If I accept. Then I will have all of you or nothing at all. I will not be second to Revas or to anyone else that has shared your bed. I will be your husband – first in all things”.

“That’s unkind of you to ask”.

“It is what I need. Do you agree or not?”

“Solas”.

“For always, Ellana. Not just tonight, tomorrow, or for the week that comes after. I would share a lifetime with you. I let Mythal slip through my fingers once. Never again”.

“You could come with me”, she wheedled. She didn’t want to give up the lover she had. Revas had been good to her for centuries. Perhaps given time, she could convince Solas to share. If Mythal had bent him to her will than she could too.

“I have responsibilities. My people need me”.

“Mine do too, but there may be a way for us to compromise”.

“How?”

Ellana laid a scaled hand against his cheek. She stroked a clawed thumb over the swell of his lower-lip. She was entranced when he kissed her fingers. The tenderness in the gesture made her heart beat like a drum against her ribs. He still harboured feelings for her.

“Tell me that which was never a lie”.

Solas had wondered for centuries if she’d recalled their last conversation. It’d been a heated argument, an exchange of threats and lies. Yet somehow she wanted him to repeat what had never been untrue. The words came to me him as did the memory of his persistent weakness. It'd been a painful unpleasant day he’d tried to forget.

That was when she’d left him all alone.

To fret for a thousand years in the shadow of his own fears.

“Ma emma lath”, said Solas with the confidence she remembered. “I have never stopped loving you”.

“Yes”, she acknowledged, smiling. “It still carries the same weight. I’d hoped you’d moved forward, started a family with someone. Been happy. But you could never do it, not even for yourself”.

“I will now”, he avowed. “With you at my side”.

“Solas”.

“There could be no one else. You are everything that I have ever wanted”.

His words touched her heart. She’d never forget what he’d done, but time had softened her animosity. Mythal’s influence once an annoyance, had become a source of constant reassurance. She was whole in a way she’d thought impossible as a simple Dalish huntress. Mythal had recovered what was left of her broken heart.

She was whole too.

“Ma vhenan”, whispered Ellana. “Take me home”.

“Ma nuvenin”, replied Solas. “Although you’ll have to let me up first”.

She groaned in disappointment. “You mean that we can’t start here?”

He was scandalised by her suggestion. “No, ma lath. I’d like a bed beneath me before we shed our clothes”.

Ellana complied albeit with great reluctance. She was pouting when he dusted himself off, got to his feet, and offered her his hand. A moment of tense anxiety passed between them. Solas feared she might refuse until a gauntleted hand slipped into his own. He was almost dragged off his feet when Ellana strode forward.

“Do you recall where the Eluvian is?” he asked, heels skidding in the grass.

“Of course I do. Now come along. The sooner we get home, the sooner I can have you all to myself”.

He snickered when she went the wrong way. “It lies to the north, vhenan”.

“Stop smirking you smug, arse. I know where it is. I lived here for five hundred years. Remember?”

“I do, vhenan”.


	3. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Chapter contains implied citrus without limey details. Lots of angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited. Glossary added at the end of the chapter.

Solas hadn’t seen this side of Ellana for a millennia. He remembered her determination when she’d waged a war against Corypheus. Now she was dragging him towards an Eluvian that led to he city he’d built on the ruins of Denerim. He was anxious when she looked through the archway that revealed the crowded streets. It was an hour after midday.

One of the busiest times in the trade sector.

Ellana hesitated to step through. She was rooted on the spot, her gauntleted fingers digging into his bare ones. Her confidence wavered. She tucked a strand of hair behind a pointed ear, frowning. She fidgeted too, skirts whispering as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

She brushed scaled fingers over the bony arch of a horn. It drifted upward from her temple to curl over the crown of her head, mirroring its twin on the opposite side. Smaller horns grew beneath, curling upwards to a lesser degree. Solas remembered Flemeth had arranged her hair in the same manner. Curious he reached for Ellana, his fingers sinking into her locks.

Her hair was softer than he expected, her skin silk-smooth. He hesitated, breath catching in his throat when she turned her golden eyes upon him. He pursed his lips to apologise. He was moments from letting his hand drop, when Ellana arched an eyebrow. There was a glint of challenge in her gaze.

The way she smirked infuriated him. Solas grabbed the curve of that horn, yanking her forwards like a shepherd manhandling a goat. He stilled the instant she laughed, cheeks reddening when they were but inches apart. His fingers were still around her horn. The texture of it ridged yet smooth like the bark of a tree.

Solas noticed how her face was upturned. She regarded him with curiosity too. The tilt of her head reminding him of an inquisitive mabari. He tensed when a scaled hand cupped his face. A clawed thumb traced the puckered scars on his chin. There were more upon his cheeks.

Long diagonal slashes stretched beneath his eyes to the line of his jaw. The ridges had softened with age, the skin smoothed with time. The pain had eased as he’d healed, though the memory of the assault remained. He’d never forget the weeks of healing that came after, or the inability to move his mouth to eat. It’d been agony to swallow, his throat a red ruin of torn flesh.

Light flickered beneath Ellana’s fingertips, horrifying Solas.

“Nae!”

She stopped casting her spell with an immediacy he found comical. She looked up at him, apologetic. She understood why he was wary. She’d hurt him terribly with a silverite blade. She relented, her hand falling away.

“Ir abelas. I should have asked first. I thought to heal the hurts I’d inflicted”.

Solas gaped at her in disbelief. “You wanted to heal my scars?”

“Yes. Was I wrong to?”

He heard the dread in her voice. He didn’t know what to say. Never before had Ellana expressed remorse for the scars she’d given him. It’d happened years ago, but Solas would always remember the murderous gleam in her eyes. The blood had spilt slice after slice as she’d carved his face to ribbons.

“No”, he replied. “You were not, Ellana. But these scars have been part of me for more than a millennia. I have grown used to the sight of them. It would be strange to peer into a mirror and not recognise myself”.

“I hadn’t considered that”.

“Does it pain you to see them?”

“Your scars are a mark of my betrayal. Perhaps it is better that I see them. That will be a constant reminder of who I used to be. Then I will be less likely to slip back into the shadows of my past”.

“Our past”.

The moment turned awkward. Solas still gripping her horn, stopped her from looking away. He forced her head back, turning her face towards him. He was still taller by half-a-head, though Ellana’s horns made up for the difference in height. He was aware that if she tossed her head, she would shatter the bones in his fingers.

He was suspicious when she didn’t.

“Why not break my hold?” he demanded. “Your horns could crack my skull open. Crush my brain. At this range the blow would be fatal”.

Ellana snorted, her lips peeling back from her fangs. “Still so fatalistic. You need a new hobby, Solas”. She snickered when he gave her horn a firm shake. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t make a habit of killing my prospective mates”.

“Why not?”

The simplicity of her explanation irked him.

“Instinct. A High Dragon protects her drakes”.

“Am I to become part of your harem?” hissed Solas. He was insulted. “How many men warm your bed? Ten, twenty?”

Ellana corrected him with a growl. “One you conceited, arse. Revas is my consort among my own people. I have been his alone for thirteen hundred years. If having to share with him disgusts you than by all means let me go”.

He leaned inwards till they were inches apart. He felt the warmth of her breath on his lips, the press of her body against him. The swell of her bosom, the tautness of her belly. There was a dragon’s strength beneath her skin. Solas wondered if she’d come to him seeking more than a tumble in the sheets.

“Never”, he murmured, pulling her close till their brows touched. He held her there, fingers tight on the base of her horn. The bridge of his nose slid across her own. Solas aligned their mouths, expecting to be bitten. He pressed his lips to hers, the kiss chaste until Ellana reciprocated.

There was a methodicalness to her exploration. She chased a graze of her fangs with a teasing roll of her tongue. She soothed a nip on his lip with soft suction at the corner of his mouth. Solas groaned when she slipped a hand into his hair. Her claws pricked at his scalp, but never drew blood.

He was giddy when Ellana relinquished control. He steered her into his arms, pulling her so tight to himself that for a moment they shared one heartbeat. He rocked against her, the pleasurable grind making her moan. He froze when he heard someone cough. Solas broke their liplock, his grey eyes flashing with blue-white fire.

He addressed the source of the interruption, snarling. “What?” He stared when he saw the selfsame farmer that’d sent him word four days prior. The man held himself upright on a pair of wooden crutches. He had friends too.

A small crowd of farmers, their wives, and families gathered round. All wide awake thanks to the fading of Ellana’s sleeping spell.

Solas spied a mother with her hands clamped over her son’s eyes. She was scandalised by their impropriety. A lanky youth leered at them with a dirty grin on his face. A young woman blushed. A gaggle of children pointed at them as they whispered.

“Fenedhis”, he cursed, the blue-white fire fading from his irises. He was chagrined when Ellana pressed her brow to his chest. Her delighted laughter not preserving his dignity at all. He smiled in spite of himself, acknowledging the absurdity of their situation. If they’d continued, he suspected he’d have been inside Ellana’s skirts.

“Vhenan”, he reproved. “You are as responsible for this lewdness as I”.

She looked up at him with an affectionate smile. “Then it would be prudent for us to continue somewhere private”. She was pleased when Solas’ breath hitched. She didn’t give him a chance to respond, taking control with the ease of a seasoned diplomat. She apologised to the embarrassed farmer and his folk.

“I have not seen Lord Fen’Harel for many years. In my eagerness to greet him I have quite forgotten my manners. Ir abelas. I’d beg your pardon, but I don’t know your name”.

Solas was amazed by how she dealt with the locals. She’d gone from being caught humping the leader of New Arlathan to charming them. She didn’t once let his hand go, nor leave his side. The message that she was indeed more than a friend was plain to Solas’ people. The rumour mill would soon be churning across the city.

The farmer hobbling on his crutches reddened. “It’s Lynas”.

“Lynas Charter?”

He frowned, nodding. “That is my family name”.

“So it is”. Ellana beamed at him with a flash of white teeth. “I beg your pardon, master Lynas. For this indiscretion and the other day. I’m sorry for frightening you and your folk. My own people are used to my comings and goings”.

“On webbed wings, milady?”

“Indeed they are. I was foolish to have flown over your lands without leave. I will be more mindful in the future. Be assured I will make adequate restitution to you and your family. You may ask to be paid in gold, silver, or in resources”.

Lynas was alarmed by her generosity. “That’s too much! We’re simple folk!”

“You farm the land to feed your people. You are more important than you know”.

Lynas returned her smile. His face softened, though there was a glimmer of awe in his gaze. He bowed his head, confusing the rest of his folk. Solas saw how some exchanged worried glances. Others backed up a step when Ellana looked their way.

“I forgive you, milady. I’ll speak to my wife”.

“Please do”, she encouraged. “I’ll return in a few days to check on your leg. You’ll make a full recovery in a week or so. We can discuss the details of our arrangement then. For now take this”.

She plucked at the ties of her collar with a brazenness that made Solas gape. Ties undone, the leather came away to reveal bare skin. His brows arched when her clawed hand went down into the valley of her breasts. She fiddled in there, pushing and pulling until she’d found what she was looking for. Solas was flustered when Ellana pulled out a small leather pouch.

It was warm to the touch when she cast it into the air.

Lynas caught it with his bare hands. The pouch clinked as if it were filled with coins. He tucked it away into the pocket of his shirt. His folk gawked as if he’d laid a golden egg. He expressed his thanks, a little shy.

“Ma serannas. I’m glad that you’ve returned to us”.

There were whispers, then frowns and another farmer’s voice boomed. “She was the cause of your accident, Lynas! You were almost crippled! You’re on crutches for goodness sake! You should be furious not forgiving!”

Ellana silenced Solas with a look when he bristled. A shake of her horned head was enough to dissuade him from rebuking the man. He held his tongue, straining to keep his temper in check. He stayed quiet, letting Ellana lead this dance. He was appeased when Lynas snapped at his companion.

“Venavis! You know not of whom you speak!”

The farmer seethed, scowling. “Who is she then?”

Lynas nodded when Ellana drew Solas away. She turned on her heel, heading towards the Eluvian. She didn’t once look back when he explained who she was. A name rolled off his tongue, older than New Arlathan. It incited a round of gasps, followed by a string of epithets.

Solas followed her through the Eluvian when Lynas’ fellow farmer screeched.

“She’s the dragon goddess? Oh shit!”

* * *

Solas took her down a back alley, bypassing the main thoroughfare of the city. But even in the darkest corners of New Arlathan they had spectators. Spirits congregated there rather than people, each drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Several swirled around Ellana like bright colourful snowflakes. They floated down to the ground, coalescing into a distinct shape.

Solas was astounded when a small silver-white puppy bounced on tiny paws. Its ears were larger than those of a dog, its muzzle long and thin. Its body was stocky but lean, the tail wagging behind it thick and shaggy. It wasn’t a dog at all, but a wolf pup. Solas regarded Ellana with a sense of wonder when she spoke to it.

“Will you tell him that I’ve arrived safe and sound?”

The pup barked, then turned, and darted away in a blaze of silver. It disappeared into the wall of a building, its form scattering into a hundred tiny orbs of light. The other spirits crowding close were shooed away by another. A sleek creature that took the form of an elven woman with glowing eyes. Garbed in the robes of a circle mage she beckoned Solas.

“Ma falon. Garas”.

He nodded, tugging on Ellana’s hand. He followed the spirit, the encounter with the wolf pup still on his mind. He wondered to whom she’d sent it, though he knew better than to ask. There were eyes and ears among the spirits of Thedas. Their tongues could wag as easily as that of an elf, a dwarf, or human.

He was glad when Ellana didn’t protest. Their journey through the city’s back alleys resumed. The spirit led them through a narrow cobbled path then down a winding staircase. They came upon an Eluvian in the depths of an old tunnel that ran underground into a wall of bedrock. Solas thanked the spirit that’d guided them.

“Ma serannas”.

It bowed its head before turning to Ellana. It considered her for several moments before touching her face. Its pale silver-white fingers ran from the base of the horn at her temple to the slope of her cheek. Its breath hitched when she smiled, soft and sad as if they shared some private understanding. The spirit made a declaration that startled Solas.

“Asha’bellanar”.

Ellana nodded. “That was my name among the Dalish”.

The spirit cocked its head like a curious hound. It laid a spectral hand over her belly. Its brows furrowed when it didn’t find what it sought. It glanced at Solas turning away, its head shaking in disappointment. It asked Ellana a question with one obscure elvish word.

“Amae?”

“Not yet, da’len”.

The spirit pouted, withdrawing. It waved to Solas before retreating back down the tunnel. It disappeared around a bend. Ellana felt the the weight of his eyes boring into her back. She turned around, arching an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

“She knew who you were”.

“Of course she did. We’ve met”.

“When?” demanded Solas.

“A long time ago”.

He found that fact perturbing. “She has never mentioned you before”.

Ellana shrugged. “We have a mutual friend”.

“A spirit?”

“Yes. Her name was Taren. I’ve not seen her in years".

Solas was far from mollified. The more she spoke, the more the mystery deepened. He was worried when he referred to something the spirit had said. It was an ancient variant of a modern elvish word. The root while obscure still carried the same meaning.

“She asked if you were a mother”.

“She did”, affirmed Ellana.

He stated what was on his mind. “Are you?”

“Not yet”.

Her answer bewildered him. “Why?”

“Babies are usually made the traditional way, Solas. But you and I haven’t gotten that far. If you’re feeling shy. I can still find someone else to take me to bed. The babe would be theirs rather than yours”.

His reply was a stern rejection. “Nae!” His grasp tightened on her fingers to the point of pain. Ellana hissed when he dragged her to the Eluvian. Its surface reflected the tunnel behind them until he snarled the passphrase.

“Fen’Harel ghilana vir vhenas!”

The Eluvian lit up like a lantern. Its glass turning from black to silver-grey then to a clear reflection of the hall beyond. Ellana saw walls of white marble, without seams of mortar or lines of handcut brick. Magic had shaped the stone that was shot through with veins of scarlet, yellow ochre, and a dark steel-grey. She had little time to admire the handcrafted rugs on the floor, or the high vaulted ceiling.

Solas pulled her through the Eluvian into his private wing of the estate. He turned yanking her forwards till she was in his arms again. He walked her backward, pushing her up against the marble wall. He held her there, the palms of his hands pressed flat against the stone on either side of her. He leaned inwards till they were nose to nose.

He was breathing hard when he asked a question. His voice strained. "Did you come here to taunt me, Ellana?" Although he trusted Mythal, she like Flemeth had played games with her lovers. Often making them false promises.

“No”, replied Ellana with the bluntness of her Dalish upbringing.

“Then why have you returned to Fereldan now of all times?”

Her answer irritated him. “Because you need me”.

“I needed you a thousand years ago!”

Ellana took pity on him. Her face softening with sympathy. She understood his fury, though it’d drowned in an ocean’s worth of sorrow. She could almost taste the salt, even if she’d already smelt it that morning. Solas had wept for hours till his eyes were red and raw.

Even now his sclera were veined with red.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asked with an earnestness that left him shaking.

“Nae”, he whined, the anger evaporating. “Five thousand years I slept after the fall of Arlathan. In awakening, in meeting Cassandra then you my perspective changed. I wanted more for myself than an endless road of slaughter, death, and bloodshed. Although I saved my people by tearing down the Veil, I almost lost that which mattered most to me”.

Ellana nodded, saying the first name that came to mind. “Mythal”.

Solas gazed into her eyes, willing her to understand. “Nae. It was you. Always you. Mythal and I were allies, but she never loved me as you did”.

Ellana recalled the message etched into a gravestone in the Fade. The battle at Adamant fortress had been a massacre. Countless orlesian wardens made puppets of Corypheus by the naive Clarel de Chanson. A demon army bound by magic that’d stripped a mage of their freewill. She remembered falling into a fissure ringed with tongues of emerald flame.

The return to the waking world had taken her party through a graveyard. Each headstone marked with a name and a deep all-consuming fear. It made sudden perfect sense when Solas trembled like a newborn lamb. He was lost in an endless cycle of self-torment. His greatest dread had near driven him mad when she’d left Fereldan.

“Ma vhenan”, he called, his voice breaking. “I cannot endure the loneliness again. Stay with me. I am lost without you”.

The tears welled then spilled over again. His cheeks were wet, his chest heaving when Ellana made soft noises of reassurance. She cupped his face in the palms of her hands, wiping away his tears with gentle swipes of her thumbs. She shushed him with feather-light kisses on his brow, temples, and cheeks. His breath hitched when she kissed him with heartfelt tenderness.

He came up for air moments later, face flushed. “Vhenan”.

Ellana was bright-eyed and panting with desire. “Ar lath ma”.

Solas exhaled a ragged breath, the relief overwhelming. He stepped away from her. He smiled when she growled in annoyance, baring her fangs at him. She was peeved by his wilful distancing until he offered her his hand. Her brows furrowed when she took it, though she soon realised he was serious.

Solas led her down the hall into the heart of his private wing. The estate was large and sprawling, but this part of the house was secluded from the rest. A door opened with a creak of silver hinges. Solas stepped through it leading Ellana inside. It closed moments later, a lock turning before it was sealed with a spell.

* * *

Hours passed in unexpected pleasurable ways. Afterwards Ellana lay on silk sheets in the arms of her beloved, their legs tangled. She slept long and deeply, cocooned in a nest of pelts and blankets. The barrier spell on the door of Solas’ bedroom glowed crimson. Clothes were strewn about the floor like leaves.

Studded leather skirts, gilded greaves, and gauntlets were in a haphazard pile. Beside it was a crumpled black cloak, boots, a linen shirt, and a pair of breeches. Small clothes were wrapped around a cast iron candelabra. The breastband and knickers were a dark wine-red. A plainer, looser pair of underwear were a simple white.

Solas stirred though he didn’t awaken. The weight and solidity of Ellana in his arms was a comfort. He slipped into a deep rejuvenating sleep, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in years. His mind drifted across the surface of the Fade, then slid into oblivion. The darkness receded until he was dreaming again.

Two somniari found each other there in a field of green. Solas lounged beside Ellana on the steps of the Altar of Mythal. The meadow before them a riot of colour. Wild flowers bloomed, bees buzzed, and a flock of butterflies fanned their wings in the sun. Birds sang in the branches of trees festooned with blossoms.

The sweetness of honeysuckle filled the air.

“It is beautiful”, said Solas with a sense of pride. “You dream with greater clarity than before”.

Ellana smiled. “I had a good teacher, though I lost her some time ago”.

“A spirit?”

“Of wisdom”.

The news intrigued Solas. “Was it this Taren you spoke of?”

“It was”.

He asked the inevitable. “How did you lose her?”

Ellana was forthcoming. “She wanted something I couldn’t provide without help. Now that will change”. Her smile waned, the corners of her mouth turning down. She regarded Solas with a wariness that alarmed him.

“What is wrong?”

“I’m afraid you’ll be upset with me”.

He frowned. “Do you intend to leave?”

“I can’t”, replied Ellana. “We’re bonded in body and spirit. You’re as much a part of me now as Mythal. Although we’re separate beings, Solas. We’re united for all time”.

He stared at her, brows arching in surprise. “For always?”

She nodded. “I will never leave you. A dragon’s love consumes everything even sense”.

“Truly?”

She grinned, baring her fangs. “It’s too late to back out now, ma lath. You’re stuck with me”.

He smiled bumping her shoulder. He caught her hand, their fingers entwining. “Good. Although I sense that you are holding something back. Tell me what troubles you”.

Ellana groaned in disappointment. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that”.

He gave her an expectant look. “Tell me”. He thought she meant to discuss the nature of their relationship. He was surprised when it was something far more personal.

“There will be a child. A baby girl in our future. She will have your hair and eyes. But she won’t come into this world alone. She will have a brother”.

“A child?” repeated Solas. “No, if there are two. That means children”.

“She will be one of twins. The other will be a son”.

“Are they mine?” He didn’t like the way she averted her eyes. “Vhenan. What is it?”

“The girl will be yours. The boy will be my child by Revas. Silver-haired and golden-eyed like his father”. She exhaled a weary breath. “I have not told him”.

That got Solas’ attention. Although he felt a twinge of jealousy, he was filled with pity too. If Ellana had kept this secret from her lover, it would be disastrous when he found out. That she’d shared it with him instead of Revas was a show of trust.

“Why would Revas resent you?”

Her answer astounded him. “Because, ma lath. Our boy has been waiting for his sister. You are her father and now we are together. Revas’ son refused to be born without her”.

He frowned, suspicious. “How do you know that?”

Ellana smiled. “A spirit once sought me out here in the Fade. You knew him in life as the somniari – Felassan. He said that he’d worked with you in the centuries before and after the fall of Arlathan. He was bitter about how he died”.

Solas was incredulous. “He found you?”

“After news spread in the Fade of Mythal’s rebirth. He made an offer I couldn’t refuse. You once told me that I’d need a tutor to learn how to use Mythal’s magic. Felassan became my teacher for a price. He wanted to live again”.

Ellana blushed when he laid a hand on her belly. “This way?”

“Yes, ma lath. Revas has always wanted us to have a family. I will give him a son, though the boy will be Felassan reborn”.

“Why did you wait?”

“Felassan wanted an accomplice. Your daughter will help avenge him. If there’s two of them than you’ll have to change double the swaddling clothes. Babies are terribly messy. So as a father you’ll have to wipe Felassan’s arse too”.

Solas snorted. “That does sound like something he would ask for”.

Ellana laughed. “He’s looking forward to it. Although that won’t be for several months”.

“Are you pregnant?”

“Not yet. But in time the seed will take root. We have much to do before then. You for example are far from full strength. An issue I intend to address”.

He paused, a tad uncertain. “What are you plotting?”

“You cannot keep the last of Mythal’s magic. It belongs to me, thus it must be returned”.

“You would leave me crippled?”

Ellana shook her head. “No, ma vhenan. I would have you whole again. Though you’ll have to convince him to return to you”. She inclined her head to the distant corner of the Altar of Mythal.

Solas turned with sudden dread. He gazed into the field of green, sucking in a hasty breath when he saw a familiar shadow in the grass. It slunk forwards with a lupine grace on paws the size of dinner plates. A gigantic black wolf with a multitude of red eyes regarded him with contempt. It opened its fanged maw, revealing two rows of jagged white teeth.

“Ma elgar’fen”.

The wolf snapped its fangs, growling. _Ma solas’an._

* * *

**Elvish Glossary:**

* * *

Revas - Freedom.

Ar lath ma - I love you

Ma lath - My love

Vhenan - Heart

Ma vhenan - My heart

Ma falon. Garas – My friend. Come.

Fen’Harel ghilana vir vhenas - Dread Wolf guide me home, or, Dread Wolf guide me on the way home.

Amae - Ancient rendition of 'Mamae' or mother.

Ma elgar'fen - My spirit-wolf, or, My wolf spirit.

Ma solas'an - My place of pride, or, My prideful place.


End file.
